


All I wanna hear her say is, "are you mine?"

by heavenisalibrary



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenisalibrary/pseuds/heavenisalibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this weekend was going to be, he thought, one of the most trying experiences of his life. Add to all of the complicated, timey-wimey-ness of the situation the fact that River seemed dead-set on torturing him within an inch of his life, and this family road trip was just <i>swell. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	All I wanna hear her say is, "are you mine?"

**Author's Note:**

> Much credit for this must be given to Pam/mygalfriday, who put the fabulous idea of young River torturing the Doctor with tiny shorts into my head and it's like my favorite thing ever. Go read everything she's ever written. Anyway, the prompt to this comically long borderline PWP was Doctor/River, sharing a bed.

When he'd gotten Amy's message on his answerphone inviting him on a Pond Family road trip, he'd been hesitant, to say the least. He'd called her back quickly, and tried to convince her to come for a jaunt in the TARDIS instead. She hadn't been swayed, though — she'd said she and Rory had commitments, and River had to be back to class on time, and besides, she'd insisted, there was nothing wrong with living in the present for a weekend. The Doctor tried to explain that there was no such thing as the present, not when you had a time machine, but Amy had just huffed Scottishly at him and hung up the phone.

He didn't really have a choice, then, and so at the designated time (alright, fifteen minutes after), he showed up at the Ponds' doorstep with a knapsack the TARDIS had essentially thrown at his head when he'd tried to leave after reconsidering upon landing. Before he could even knock on the door, Amy threw it open, barely pausing to press a smacking kiss to his cheek before barreling past him and toward the car. Rory followed behind her, clapping the Doctor on the shoulder in greeting and hauling he and Amy's bags.

"Right on time, Doctor," Rory said as he passed, following Amy to the car and heaving the bags into the trunk. Amy slid into the driver's seat.

"I thought I was late, actually," the Doctor said.

"No," River said, appearing in the doorway, leaning against it with a hand on her hip. "We told you to be here fifteen minutes before we wanted to leave, knowing you can't navigate your way out of a paper bag."

"That's ridiculous," the Doctor said with a huff. "Why would I be inside of a paper bag?"

"It's an idiom, honey," River said. She stepped forward to press a kiss to his cheek, which forced him to ask:

“When are we, River?”

“Early days,” she said. “I’m a sophomore at Luna University. Does that help?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor. “Very early, then. You’re practically an infant.”

“Not quite,” she said, rolling her eyes, but oh, she was. He saw it now, and as she waited a beat for him to respond, he looked her up and down, and realized just how young she was. Her face was softer, her eyes were brighter — she wasn’t as good at hiding herself away just yet. Her skin glowed, and there was a sense of hope and optimism emanating from her that she kept far below the surface later in life — this was a River before the Silence got to her again. A River who thought she’d escaped her fate. Clever girl, he thought, of course she would, but after she became a Doctor, they’d snatch her up again until she could thwart them once and for all. But he didn’t want to think about that now. What he wanted to think about was what she was _wearing_ , he realized abruptly, and for a moment had the thought that he probably looked like one of those ridiculous cartoon characters with their eyes and tongues popping out when a pretty girl walked past.

River was always beautiful, but this young she was stunning beyond description, _and_ dressed in tiny denim shorts that hugged the generous curve of her hips and nipped in at her impossibly tiny waist. She wore a cropped tank top with an overlarge flannel shirt draped over top unbuttoned, and as he looked her up and down he had to realize _exactly_ how tiny those shorts were. Faded and frayed, they had an inch inseam. Maybe. Okay, he thought, and inch was being extremely generous. Her legs went on for miles, bare and golden and the Doctor had a oft noted problem with authority figures, but he’d bend a knee to River in an instant, just to get a better look.

She noticed him noticing and flushed a bit, but recovered more quickly than he did. Shutting the door behind her, she closed the Doctor’s slack-jawed mouth for him as she walked past and headed toward the car, and, not that the Doctor believed in any god, but _god_ , the view from behind certainly convinced him of some sort of divinity. If he thought the shorts barely covered her from the front, they did absolutely nothing for her behind — or perhaps they did _everything_ for it, hugging it tightly, the legs letting the barest curve of her bottom peak out as she bent over the trunk to fit her own bag in. 

“Fuck,” the Doctor said under his breath, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but just about the only adequate thing he could think to say. When River was through with her bag, she leaned back on her heels, reached her arms toward the sky, the sun glancing off of her golden curls, and arched her back in a luxurious stretch that bared the skin of her lower back and made her shorts rise up even further and, well, “ _fuck._ ”

“Eyes front, Raggedy Man,” Amy hollered from the driver’s seat, honking the horn and startling him into action, cheeks red. “That’s my daughter you’re drooling at.”

“I’m not —” he paused, reaching a hand up to check and make sure he wasn’t actually drooling, because, well, it wasn’t far out of the realm of possibility. “Shut up, Pond.”

“Don’t embarrass him, Mum,” River said, winking at him as she slid into the passenger seat. “You’ll ruin all my fun.”

“Behave, young lady,” Rory said. River laughed, and the Doctor watched on with a slight smile as, the moment Rory looked away, both Amy and River popped a finger in their respective mouths and the jammed their fingers into his ears in perfect synchronization. There was much shouting, and the car swayed side to side as Rory yelped and tried to get them back.

He was grateful for the distraction, which gave him ample time to put his bag in the car and then think about that time he’d had to work as a podiatrist a day during World War I until the situation watching his very, very young, very, very cruel wife had caused subsided, and he could comfortably get into the car.

___

He thought going on a linear camping trip on planet earth in the plain old twenty-first century was going to be difficult. He’d never imagined he was going to have to add to the list of things he was dreading River Song being closely chaperoned by her parents. Amy was mostly kidding, the Doctor knew. But Rory was dead serious. The Ponds missed their little girl, but now their relationship with River was twice over made up of overprotectiveness: the overcompensation for not having been able to protect her in her youth combined with the parental protectiveness they’d felt over Mels created a perfect storm of Very Stern Ponds.

The Ponds, of course, knew that River was his wife, but as Rory had pointed out to him while the women were in the bathroom when the Doctor had helped them move River into her new college digs a year or so ago in their linear time, she wasn’t his wife yet. Rory had told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted the Doctor to move slowly with River. To give her time to live her life on her own terms, before she tied herself to the Doctor.

“I know you love her,” Rory had said, “and I think that’s grand. But River’s so much like Amy, isn’t she? More like Amy than me, anyway, and I think Amy needed that time — with you, before we got married. She needed to — to — sow her wild oats or whatever. I mean, River is always a bit mad, I think. It’s why you get along I suppose, but I’m just saying … give her time. Does that make sense?”

It had. It _did._ The Doctor wasn’t about to remove himself from River’s young life completely, but he stopped himself from popping in nearly every day, limiting himself to every few weeks plus special occasions, and he couldn’t be blamed if he had a time machine that could draw a lazy afternoon into a weeklong adventure. But no matter how much he struggled to remind himself that she wasn’t quite his wife yet, he couldn’t not kiss her goodnight when she pulled him in for a snog at the end of the night, and he couldn’t stop his hands from wandering completely — River had a gravitational pull, to him. Always had. But he did heed Rory’s words. He tried to give her space, he never stayed the night at hers, and the TARDIS was kind enough to him for once to give her her own room when she did stay on board.

So this weekend was going to be, he thought, one of the most trying experiences of his life. Add to all of the complicated, timey-wimey-ness of the situation the fact that River seemed dead-set on torturing him within an inch of his life, and this family road trip was just _swell._

River removed the flannel an hour into the drive to the cabin the Ponds had rented, and the Doctor was extremely upset to discover that it didn’t have sleeves, and was rather low cut in the back. He spent five minutes telling her all the reasons it didn’t really qualify as a shirt — it was only half a shirt to begin with, minus the sleeves, so only a third of a shirt, and then she turned to the side and he saw that the back was held together by only a thin strip of fabric at the bottom, so in total she was wearing about a sixteenth of a shirt. She’d laughed at him, and when she fell asleep laying across the backseat with her head in his lap and her body stretched out so that the entire span of her stomach was bare, he knew she did it on purpose. It took him a few minutes to relax, but in the end he was able to distract himself with the serene look on her face and the simple pleasure of running his fingers through her hair.

___

When they arrived at the campsite, there was a mix up with their reservation. The Ponds had intended to reserve the family cabin — one master suite for the marrieds, and two separate rooms for those who were only married from certain people’s perspective. But their cabin had accidentally been given away, and so that was how the Doctor ended up staring down his absolute worst nightmare: the room he and River were to share had only one bed. One less-than-huge bed in a room that definitely did not share a wall with the Ponds, which would’ve been a saving grace, in a cabin with thick walls that would certainly trap sound, which would’ve been another.

“Isn’t this cozy,” River said breezily, tossing her bag onto the bed and going about unpacking. She’d — thankfully — put the flannel back on, but the shorts hadn’t gotten any longer along the way. The Doctor swallowed and dropped his bag onto the bed as well, but he opted to sit down and watch River unpack instead. He couldn’t even for one second pretend he wasn’t using this opportunity to ogle her, but it was just so hard not to. When she was through unpacking, she turned to look at him with her hands on her hips, and he raised his brows at her. “Is this alright?”

“Is what alright?”

“The room,” River said. She tucked a curl behind her ear, looking uncharacteristically insecure for half a second before she recomposed herself. “I know this isn’t what you expected.”

“Of course it’s alright,” the Doctor lied. He settled back onto the bed, kicking his bag onto the floor and folding his arms behind his head. “Unless _you’re_ not alright with it.”

“Honey,” River said, “we’d have been sharing a bed to begin with if I’d have planned this trip. It’s Dad who’s not alright with it.”

“Why, River Song, you rebel.”

She rolled her eyes. “ _Act_ surprised,” she teased. She stepped toward the bed and climbed onto it, kneeling on the end and walking on her knees toward him. He watched her warily as she spread herself half over him. “You owe me a hello kiss.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor, a smile tugging at his lips. He reached up to scratch his cheek nervously. “Do we do that now?”

“When Rory isn’t around,” River said, and the Doctor laughed as she leaned forward to press her lips to his, and he was instantly overcome with all the wanting he’d been fighting since he first noticed those shorts. He tried harder than he’d ever tried to do anything before to keep himself focused as he kissed her — he tried to remember that the door was open, that he made a promise to Rory, but all he could think about was her ass in those shorts and the glimpse of her smooth, flat stomach every time she stretched, and he found his hands slowly inching down from their place in her hair, itching to touch that teasing skin bared by her shorts.

Her lips were impossibly soft and smooth and tasted like the beeswax chapstick she insisted was the best in the universe, even though it was so simple. Her hair was soft, unfettered by any sort of product for their outing in the woods, and her skin felt like silk beneath his palms. She smelled like jasmine and musk, that scent he couldn’t ever quite pin down as being from a bottle or simply part of her. River leaned more fully against him, and he didn’t stop her — she seemed to take it as encouragement, and suddenly (although it must not have been suddenly, he knew) she was on top of him, the warm, heady weight of her and all of those curves pressing up against him as she slid one leg between his and rolled her body against him. His hands clenched at her waist where he held her, and he released her for a second to slip them under the flannel, grasping at the bare skin that had been torturing him all morning.

She moved her lips from his to breathe, and he took the opportunity to fasten his mouth to her neck, just cognizant enough to suck lightly enough that he wouldn’t leave any marks. She let out a breathy gasp above him, shifting her leg up higher between his, and he hardly had a thought in his head as he flipped her over so that he was on top of her. He wanted her so much that he didn’t think he was even breathing, and he knew, as she moaned quietly and arched up into him, that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and maintain the boundaries imposed by River’s own personal Roman Legion. He kissed her again, letting her deepen the kiss as he hardly ever did, and even this young, River kissed like a hurricane — he let his hand guide her leg to bend so that she could press more fully against him, which had the added benefit of getting him closer to those shorts, and he slid his hand up the smooth skin of her leg until he was nearly able to grab a handful of her ass, which was, he thought, his whole life’s ambition, when —

“Settling in alri —”

“ _Hands off!_ ” shouted Rory, storming in past Amy, grabbing a pillow off of the nearby chair, and immediately using it to swat at the Doctor and River as they sprung apart as though electrocuted.

“Really?” Amy said. “The door was open and everything! How would you feel if we left ours open all the time, hm? Can’t you put a balloon out or something?”

“Oh, Ponds,” the Doctor said, springing off of the bed and straightening his clothes after fending off Rory, who stepped back to glower with his arms folded over his chest. “We were just, um — saying… hello…”

“Last time I checked, you don’t use your _tongue_ to say hello,” Rory said.

“Actually, Rory…” Amy said, raising a brow at him.

“You know what I mean,” Rory said quickly, flushing.

“Why don’t we just go have a bite, yeah?” Amy said.

“And a drink,” said River.

“Yes,” Amy said with a serene smile, placing a gangly arm over River’s shoulder as she came closer, “she’s _so_ my daughter. Although there’s no accounting for her taste in men — you have actually, properly seen that raggedy man, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mum,” River said as they left Rory and the Doctor alone in the room. “Chin and all.”

“Ah, well,” said Amy, her voice growing farther and farther away, although the Doctor could tell she still wanted to be heard. “At least there’s no warts, then.”

“Shut up, Pond!” the Doctor shouted. He abruptly realized he was alone in the room with a very cross looking Rory, and so put great effort into looking everywhere but at Rory. He saw, though, from the corner of his eye, Rory crossing his arms over his chest, and the Doctor huffed a sigh. “Best behavior, Centurion.” He gave a little salute.

“Not what it looked like to me,” said Rory.

“ _Rory_ ,” the Doctor sighed, flopping down on the bed and peering up at his father-in-law through his hair. “I heard you, I truly did. And I would never do anything to hurt her, you must know that.”

“Not on purpose, anyway,” said Rory. The Doctor cringed.

“Not on purpose,” he agreed after a moment. “And we are taking things very slowly. I’m giving her as much space as I can without being rude. But, Rory, give me a bit of a break, hm? She’s — she’s River, not to mention my wife, and — well, it’s just that — there’s… things… to consider, and it’s not —”

“I know,” said Rory with a sigh, sitting on the bed beside the Doctor with an air of resignation. “The shorts.”

The Doctor instantly screwed up his face in a look of disgust. “Why are you looking at her shorts?”

“ _I’m_ not,” said Rory, “but the fellow working the petrol station, the man who checked us in, four construction workers we passed by on our way here, plus three other guests have been. I’ve been looking at _them._ And scowling. And at you. While scowling.”

“They’re just —”

“Doctor, can we not?” Rory said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There needs to be a line drawn when we have these little heart to hearts. I know this isn’t a conventional family, but sometimes you need to force a little normalcy. Okay?”

“Not talking about your daughter’s shorts, then,” the Doctor said.

“Not if you value your life.” The Doctor nodded, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, Rory stood up, swinging his arms side to side and giving the Doctor a bit of a shrug. “So, how was that?”

“The talk?”

“Yeah,” said Rory. “I missed out on all those years of scaring my daughter’s little boyfriends with tales of my days as a Centurion. I was quite looking forward to them. Did I scare you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said the Doctor with a smile, standing and clapping Rory on the shoulder. “Quaking in my boots. I might just break down and cry after you leave the room — definitely I’ll think twice about even holding her hand again.”

“Oh, shut up, Doctor,” Rory said, rolling his eyes. The Doctor flopped an arm over Rory’s shoulder and guided him out the door after Amy and River as Rory nattered on. “I would’ve been really scary, you know, properly frightening. I have a sword. A big one. I would’ve sat in a chair and polished it and not said a word, just intimidated any boyfriends with my presence.”

“I’m sure you would’ve.”

“It’s harder with you, though,” Rory said. “You do all of that crime-fighting and space danger — what’s a Father to do, you know?”

“I know,” the Doctor said, “for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an excellent job.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Rory said.

“Don’t mention it,” said the Doctor. And then, “no, really, Rory, don’t mention it. If River knew we had this little chat, she’d have your head and mine on a platter. Maybe you should consider trying to intimidate her instead — she’s always the aggressor, you know, she’s the one who causes all the space danger…”

___

Dinner was pleasant, and the Doctor only checked the time half a dozen times, which was far less than he usually did. Even if he moaned about going somewhere so wanting for adventure so linearly, it was nice to spend time with his Ponds, though he’d certainly never miss it. They were perhaps the only family on the planet that was energetic and loud enough to make him seem like the subdued one — it was mostly Amy and River, but once Rory had a few drinks, the Doctor could see what the three of them would’ve been like as teenagers. Appallingly loud and giggly, rife with inside jokes and playful insults, sometimes the Doctor even slowed down further, sat back in his chair, and watched Amy and River gang up on Rory as he shouted back at them, leaning over the table and waving his empty pint glass in River’s face as she teased him about various things. It was, the Doctor thought, a pretty perfect evening. Rory didn’t even comment when the Doctor draped his arm over the back of River’s chair — perhaps because he was too busy defending himself against his wife and his daughter, who were a formidable team. The Doctor thought about how terrible they would’ve been in class together, especially when River was Mels, because she’d been even more of a force of nature then, which was saying something; he made a mental note to pop in, maybe temp for one of their classes when he had a different face, that would be a laugh.

Eventually the restaurant they’d eaten in closed, and they walked back to the cabin in the dark, River walking ahead of him beside Rory, he slightly behind with Amy bumping his shoulder with hers as they went.

“Rory doesn’t mean it, you know,” Amy said. 

It took the Doctor a minute to follow her train of thought. “I think he does.”

“Well, yeah, he does,” said Amy, “but it’s not personal. It’s not because of you, or anything. I couldn’t want anyone better for my daughter than my best friend. Rory, either. Our best friend. You’re family, now, whether you like it or not, raggedy man.”

The Doctor slung an arm around Amy’s shoulders, pulling her into him and kissing her temple. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and the held to one another as they walked. “I’m honored to be a Pond.”

“Too right,” said Amy. “We’re an elite group.”

Rory guffawed at something River said, doubling over as he walked, and the Doctor watched River throw her head back and laugh too — and he didn’t for a moment spare a thought for her shorts, that was how perfect everything felt in that moment.

___

They stayed up a bit later when they returned to the cabin, talking and laughing, and then slowly it was upon him — that time that he’d been dreading since they’d realized the living situation. The time when they said goodnight to Amy and Rory, and he and a young River Song whom he really, really had to keep his hands off of were forced to share a bed. At the very least he was saved the further duress of having to resist those bloody shorts, because she yawned and disappeared down the hallway, telling him she was going to change into her pajamas. The Doctor sighed and followed behind her moments after, pleased to find that she’d gone to change in the bathroom, and so he had a few minutes alone in their room to mentally steel himself against what was destined to be one of the more miserable nights of his life, following one of the more wonderful evenings.

He was extremely glad his bag was bigger on the inside and connected to the TARDIS’s wardrobe, because as he’d been under the impression he’d have his own room, he hadn’t brought sleep clothes at all. He’d been planning to sleep in his pants which, he realized, would be so ill-advised as to be kamikaze in his current situation. Instead he changed into a soft pair of pants reminiscent of River’s flannel shirt and an old t-shirt that, he thought, probably belonged to a previous regeneration at some point. He settled into the bed, shifting so that he was at the very farthest edge of it, and pulled the covers up to his chin as the door creaked open, River stepped inside, and the Doctor felt the urge for the third time that day to use an expletive he normally didn’t.

Oh, he was very, very screwed.

She’d lost the denim shorts, and she didn’t look at him as she turned to put her clothes from the day in a drawer, but he knew she knew, just as well as he knew that she loved to play with her food before she at it — which was unfortunate, seeing as he was her prey. Instead of the denim shorts, she wore a simple, white cotton pair with a pattern that looked like lace that made her skin look like honey. He’d thought he could never see a pair of shorts so short as the denim ones, but these were worse, because the material was flimsier — every time she moved the inseam rolled up, and as she bent over to close the drawer, ass in the air, he thought she may as well have worn pants to bed. On top she had a flimsy tank top, spaghetti straps and no support for her — well — it was going to be a very long night.

“Mum’s really glad you came,” River said. She didn’t mention the way he was no doubt staring at her like she was dessert, but he could tell by her smirk that she noticed. “She didn’t think you would, it being somewhat less exciting than your usual weekend.”

“This is plenty exciting,” said the Doctor. He wasn’t even exaggerating.

“I told her you’d like it,” River said. “I know you love twirling through time and space, honey, but I also happen to know you have a soft spot for playing house.”

“I do not — twirl, River.”

“You do a bit,” she said, pulling back the covers to get into bed. Before she did, though, she took one look at his pajamas and raised a brow at him.

“What?” he said, pulling the covers up to his neck, as though to hide himself from her.

“You usually sleep in your pants,” she said.

“How do you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve stayed over in the TARDIS dozens of times, Doctor,” she said. “And when you come out in the morning for breakfast, you’re always in your pants. No flannel, no shirt. Sometimes ridiculous socks.”

“Well,” he said, flailing a bit as he struggled for an excuse, “well, usually it’s not — usually I don’t have to — just get into bed, River.”

“Ooh, what a good phrase to come out of that mouth,” she said.

He clapped a hand over his face, feeling the bed shift as she settled in.

“Mind you,” she said, and he was terribly upset to hear her voice getting closer, the bed shifting beneath her weight as she rolled over so that she was right beside him, “I can come up with a very long list of better uses for that mouth.”

“I’m sure you could,” said the Doctor before he could stop himself.

“Would you like to hear some suggestions?”

“I’m always open to suggestions,” he said. And then, “no, wait, I didn’t mean that. I meant no, thank you.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I’m very creative.”

“Well, in that case —” he said, rolling over to look at her, and upon realizing what he was doing, immediately flopped over on his other side, “no thank you.”

He reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, and after a moment and a sigh, River did the same. The room was dark, and the Doctor was at least glad that he wouldn’t have to worry about the visual of those little shorts. River rolled back over, though, so that her front was pressing to his back, and nuzzled her nose into the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure?”

“No — yes. Yes. Your parents are here, River.”

“Way down the hall. Plus, the door’s closed.” She wrapped an arm around him, sliding her hand under his shirt to press up against the bare skin of his stomach, and he shuddered.

“River,” he whined, “give me a break, here.”

“I think I’ve given you months of break, sweetie, almost two years’ worth,” she said, sounding cross. She withdrew her arm and rolled away from him, and he sighed. “You know, if you were anyone else, I’d have stopped seeing you all together for holding out on me like this. Abstinence is alright for some people, Doctor, but not me — I know you and my father have some kind of creepy, antiquated agreement, but give me a break. A girl can only subsist off of battery power for so long.”

The Doctor scrubbed a hand over his face, then tugged it through his hair. He’d been able to handle the heavy-handed flaunting of her considerable assets, at least to some extent, and if not only because every time she flounced into his TARDIS in an impossibly short dress and swayed her hips about just because she knew he’d follow her movements as though hypnotized, he was always able to skip ahead in time as soon as he extricated himself (with much difficulty) from their goodbyes and find a version of his wife who knew she was his wife. He felt it was best for her, but what he’d failed to consider was what it would mean to her — but then he felt as though he were trapping himself, because although he recognized that River needed to be control of her own life, and that in the future she’d slap him for days if she knew he were making any decision ‘for her own good,’ he’d been convincing himself of it so long that now he was reconsidering, he was a little wary that he was only doing so because of those shorts.

And because she’d put the mental image in his head of what battery-powered bedtime stories she told herself to get to sleep after their dates, when he went off to find an older version of her with whom to resolve his own issue.

He rolled over with a sigh and shifted over on the bad until he could see in her in the dark, lying with her back to him. Reaching out, he pulled her to him and spooned her against him, curling his body around hers. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t relax, either. He kissed her shoulder, twining an arm around her body, his pinky grazing the slip of skin between her top and her shorts.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, “and I know you’ll hate me saying it, but I’ve been trying to do what’s best for you. Give you time. Time can be rewritten — what we’ve been in my past might not be your future. And I don’t want you to ever feel as though I’ve forced your hand.”

“You couldn’t, even if you wanted to,” she said. He smiled against the skin of her shoulder, kissing it again.

“So,” he said, sliding her hair to the said to place another lingering kiss to the nape of her neck. “Be kind tonight, would you? I’ll buy you a new pack of batteries in the morning.”

River chuckled, and somewhere in the back of his mine it registered that it wasn’t even a little bit agreement on her part. He closed his eyes and nestled closer to her — he still wanted to take things slow, or at least not speed them up on a weekend with her parents, but he couldn’t deny himself the simple pleasure of resting with his wife in his arms. He didn’t sleep much, and neither did River, but he felt like he could probably catch a few winks. 

Unfortunately, the moment he closed his eyes, he found that her shorts — pick a pair — were ingrained on his memory, and all he could think about was River in those bloody shorts, standing on her tiptoes to reach a shelf with the muscles of her legs flexing. River, bending over to place something in a drawer, the smallest glimpse of her pert, round ass appearing as her shorts rode up. River, sprawled out across the backseat with all of that skin driving him wild — River, whose ass was currently pressed against him in a pair of those divine little shorts. The Doctor tried to shift his lower half away from her — he couldn’t help but react — but she wouldn’t let him. She pressed herself back into his hips, and he could feel the smugness radiating off of her in waves as she rubbed herself against the growing problem in his pants.

“River,” he choked out after a minute, reaching out to grab her hips with the intent of pushing her away, but he found he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. 

“Shhh, sweetie,” she said, “I’m sleeping.”

She certainly wasn’t sleeping, and he certainly wasn’t getting any sleep either — he wanted to push her away, but he found his hands sliding to her front and pressing her to him, thrusting back against her as she rubbed against his erection. He closed his eyes, feeling one of her hands come to rest against his over her lower abdomen. She filed her fingers between his and curled them in, pressing his hand more firmly against her skin and rubbing herself against him more firmly. She must’ve felt his breath, heavy on her neck, and taking it as the slow and steady crumble of his resistance, she grabbed his hand more firmly and pulled it between her legs, and he could’ve subsisted off of the gasping whimper she made as he let her press his fingers against the invitingly warm crotch of her terribly thin shorts.

He kissed her neck as she bent her leg back to curl over his, giving him easier access — she released his hand, but he didn’t remove it, instead running his fingers firmly between her legs, and then up and under the waistband of those torturous shorts. He found — not surprisingly, he didn’t know how she would’ve fit them — her naked underneath, and bit down on her shoulder to stifle a groan when he realized she’d probably been naked underneath those denim shorts, too. She gasped as his fingers circled her clit, and for a moment the room was quiet save for their panting as he worked his hand between her legs, grinding himself against her until he thought he could probably come just from that — the whole day had been foreplay, although he was somewhat disappointed with himself, knowing all it took to undo his resolve was an unending parade of increasing tiny clothes, culminating in those shorts. He’d dream about them for years.

She gripped his wrist, pressing his hand more firmly against her, and he slid a finger inside of her, reaching around instantly with his free hand to place it over her mouth just in time to stifle her moan. The chances of Amy and Rory hearing them were slim to none, but River wasn’t exactly known for being quiet, so it was better to be cautious. She let go of his hand as he slid another finger inside of her and instead reached around behind her to grip his hair, tugging slightly, and it only took a few minutes of feeling her, hot and needy around him, writhing against him, hand pulling in his hair for him to realize he needed to stop, lest it be a very disappointing experience for his wife.

He extricated himself from her, rolling himself on top of her and sucking the fingers he’d had inside of her into his mouth with a pop, watching her bite her lower lip as she watched him. She reached up to pull him down for a kiss but he resisted her, kissing his way down her sternum instead — he needed to get to those damnable shorts. When he reach her stomach, he lifted his weight off of her for a second so that she could peel her shirt off, and he licked his lips at the sight of her. His wife was without a doubt the most beautiful creature in the entire world — she would’ve made Helen of Troy green with envy. In fact, he thought, kissing just below her belly button and hooking his fingers in the elastic of her shorts and pulling them down.

“Promise me you’ll never wear those denim shorts — or these, for that matter — unless we’re alone ever again,” he said, slipping them down her legs and throwing them across the room. Kneeling between her legs, he kissed each knee, the inside of each thigh, and then a brief, teasing kiss where she wanted him most. She rolled her hips and glared at him as he held her down.

“I promise,” River said. “After this trip, they’re for your eyes only. I haven’t got anything else to wear this weekend, honey. You’re just going to have to be an adult about it for the time-being.”

The Doctor groaned. “At least don’t torture me unnecessarily. That thing with the — the — bending over and the —” he waved his hands around, hoping River would get what he meant. When she just raised a brow, he quickly added, “your arse ends up half out, it’s cruel.”

She stroked his hair. “I’ll take it under advisement. While I’m considering it —”

“Right, right,” he said, tightening his grip on her hips and dipping his head further between his legs. His lips brushed against her in a way that made her squirm as he added, “always ordering me around. Slave-driver.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she said, gripping his hair firmly and dragging him forward. He relented gladly, pressing his lips to her. He circled his tongue around her clit, brushed it over top, sucked it into his mouth — she arched her back, her fingers clenching against his scalp, and he looked up in warning when she started to moan, only to find her looking right back at him. His held her hips still and held his eyes to hers as he moved his mouth down to press his tongue within her, watching her mouth drop open as she watched him. He moved his mouth as though he were kissing her, exploring her with his tongue, plying her open with his lips. He loved the sounds River made when he went down on her, and he thought the only greater regret he had toward the weekend than not being able to walk her straight into the TARDIS the moment she’d emerged in those shorts was that she had to keep her voice down.

He could tell she was getting closer by the way her body trembled, but she kept her eyes fixed to him; her pupils were completely blown, and her eyes looked like the sort of deep, dark blue one would see flying over the deepest point of the ocean. He shifted a hand from her hip to press one, two, three fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out slowly as he laved her clit with his tongue. Her breathing hitched, and her trembling became more pronounced. He watched her back arch as her muscles tightened, and she let out a whimper that sounded like a plea for more — he moved his fingers faster and sucked her clit between his lips, moving his tongue quickly back and forth over it. Her eyes fluttered and she threw her head back, biting her lip. He watched her, one of her hands clenching in the bedsheets, the other reaching up to grasp her own breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers, rolling it beneath her hand; River had never been shy about seeking her own pleasure, and god, he loved to watch. 

When she came, her whole body shook, and although the Doctor loved to make her scream, he thought he might have liked that even better — she shivered from head to toe and she curled into herself as though a string holding her taut had snapped, and she fell back into the bed, panting and boneless. He wiped his fingers on the bedsheets as he made his way back up her body, placing soft kisses on her skin as he went. She smiled at him when he pressed a glancing kiss to her lips.

“You have an unfair advantage,” River said, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

“How so?” he said, inhaling the smell of sweat and sex on her skin as he kissed her cheek. She tugged at his shirt a bit, which he took as a signal to remove it — he tugged it over his head as she replied.

“You’ve done this before,” River said, “you know all the moves, as it were. We have done this before, haven’t we? For you?”

The Doctor kissed her gently before responding. “In your timeline as it was for me, yes, of course. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. It could change. Maybe I’ll be so rubbish from here on out you’ll never want to do it again.”

River hummed, smiling as she shifted so that she could lean over him, reaching down to hook her fingers in the elastic of his pajama bottoms, and he helped her pull them down, kicking them off to land somewhere near her shorts. “I doubt that, honey. I’m a bit too fond. Even if you were rubbish, I’d probably just train you.”

“I don’t need training,” he said, defensive.

“Probably you will do, I suppose,” River said. “Back to front, and all. That’s going to be just delightful — the day I have the roadmap and you’re not even sure what car you’re driving.”

“It wasn’t as bad as all that!”

River laughed, warm and low, and when he opened his mouth to protest again, she hushed him with a kiss, rolling over so that she laid on top of him, and he moaned into her mouth to feel her, finally, pressed against him. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the wonderful contours of her body, roaming down to dig his fingers into the ass that had been taunting him all day. She curled her legs around him, resting one on either side of him, grinding herself against his erection, and he has to pull back from the kiss, throwing his head back and gasping out, “christ, River.”

“Somebody’s eager,” River said.

“Somebody’s been watching his — his —”

“Master and commander,” River said.

“The film?”

“No, finishing your sentence — you’ve been watching your Master and Commander, continue…”

He sighed, but didn’t bother to argue, because River chose that moment to lean up over him, pressing her palms to his chest so she had better leverage with which to grind against him, which not only did him the wonderful service of the sort of friction he thought he could die from, but also but her breasts directly in front of his face. He wanted to end the conversation so he could better use his mouth as quickly as possible. “...flounce around all day essentially naked.”

“That’s an — ah,” she paused as he leaned up, spanning his hands across her ribcage so he could take a breast in his mouth, sucking on the side in a way that he knew would leave those blooming little red marks that he loved to see, like a brand on her skin saying that she was his. “That’s an overstatement.”

The Doctor didn’t reply, pressing his palm against her other breast and rolling the nipple beneath his hand, delighting in her shaky intake of breath. He didn’t get to delight in it long, however, because the next moment she slid away from him, down, down his body until she was kneeling between his legs, leaving a bright red mark against his inner thigh with her mouth. He had half a mind to stop her — he was all but gone already, and he knew he wouldn’t hold out long — but she was too quick and too much for him to formulate a proper thought, and before he could so much as utter a word, she’d wrapped her mouth around him, pressed her lips around the base of his head, and begun flicking her tongue over the little ridge of skin there. The Doctor immediately flung his arms to the side and gripped the sheets for dear life, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to summon either the will not to come or the ability to speak again so he could tell her to stop. She loosened the grip of her lips, widening her mouth to move her head up and down his shaft slowly, twisting her head slightly and letting her tongue trail along the underside of his cock, holding the base tightly in her hand. When she went as far as she could go, he wasn’t sure if he hit the back of her throat or the underside of her tongue but either way, he knew he would last another second if she didn’t — “River, stop, stop, please.”

She released him with a pop, and he felt every inch of her body slide back up over his cock until she pressed her lips to his and he finally opened his eyes. 

“I suppose I don’t need that roadmap,” River said.

“Just the denim shorts,” the Doctor agreed.

River laughed, and the Doctor’s hands flew to her hips as she gripped him again, lining him up with her entrance and sliding down onto him. 

“Fuck,” the Doctor said, for the third time that day.

“Doctor!” River said, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say it, I don’t like that word, it sounds funny with this voice, it’s just —”

She kissed him quiet, not for the first time and not for the last, one hand caressing his face as she began to move over him, a slow, steady undulation of her hips that had them gasping into one another’s mouth almost instantly. She was warm and soft and all around him, her hair falling into his face as she kissed him desperately, letting her chest fall against his so that he thought they might melt together; damp skin and soft emotions, the slip and slide of his affection moving and undulating with their bodies as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him like he was afraid she’d somehow disappear. She began to move faster, and he sat up, and she shifted to accommodate bouncing in his lap as he kissed her. He kissed her lips like he was drinking from them, the sort of quick, fast kisses that made her lean back toward him after every one; he kissed her jawline, over to her ear, drew her earlobe into his mouth in a way that made her shudder as she rode him faster and faster; he groaned against the skin of her throat as he kissed her, his hearts pounding so hard and her hearts matching pace so that it was a constant drumbeat in his ears — oh, he’d looked into the time vortex and seen the edge of space, the end of everything, but he’d never touched infinity nearly so well as he did in these moments when every second, every cell in his body seemed to expand out and last forever, whole universes encapsulated in the way her pupils bloomed into the blue of her eyes as she got closer to the edge.

Dimly, he realized her soft little sighs were growing into moans, which were escalating into sharp little shouts, but he’d been hard basically since that morning and hanging on the precipice since she’d first spooned back into him, and so he couldn’t be bothered to care. When he felt her fluttering around him, her nails digging into his skin so that he knew there’d be little half-moon marks when she let go, he held her tightly to him once again and laid back, rolling over so that he was on top of her. He bent her legs up, draping them over his shoulders as he began to thrust into her, hard and fast; he knew that he, too, was making far more noise than he ought to have, but all he could think about was River — he rotated his hips slightly on his next downward stroke and River shuddered, clutching at his skin and moaning in that toe-curlingly exultant way he loved.

“I’m so close, honey,” she said, giving a shout as he shifted her legs up a bit farther, pressing even more deeply into her. “God, don’t stop — don’t — Doctor —” she all but screamed when she came, and he followed after a few more thrusts, collapsing on top of her, chanting her name into her skin like a litany, and feeling her shaking in his arms as she came down. 

Slowly, their breathing levelled out, their hearts resynced at a more normal rhythm, and he took her kiss to his temple as a sign to roll off of her.

“That was certainly worth the wait,” River said.

“That was certainly worth enduring a whole day of those shorts,” the Doctor said.

She lazily swatted at his chest. “Shut up.”

The Doctor grabbed her hand where it rested on his chest, entwining his fingers with hers and giving a contented sigh. He wanted to tell her that he loved her — that his head was full of her, that sometimes he couldn’t even plug in the coordinates to get to her because his mind was racing so far ahead, imagining what version of her he’d get — but he knew it was too early. Perhaps she loved him; probably she did. And he’d already broken one promise to the Roman, but it still was too soon.

“Oh,” River said suddenly, sitting up.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Well,” River said, looking nervous as she stood up off of the bed on slightly shaky legs, “we weren’t exactly quiet, sweetie.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor.

“Right,” said River, hunting around the floor for her clothes and pulling them on quickly. “The TARDIS?” she asked as he quickly pulled on his pajamas.

“In Leadworth,” said the Doctor.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Run?” said the Doctor, grinning just a little bit as he offered her his hand.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said.

They just barely made it out of the house past a fuming pair of Ponds.


End file.
